My doc bleeds me dry

I love being rich. Not just normal rich, but the kind of crazy rich that groups me with billionaire madmen buying foolish girls at expensive parties. I especially love handing out bucket loads of yuan to pay for a consultation with a doctor fluent in my mother tongue. Oh, the joy of being rich.

Then again, it's all in my head. I don't frequent the high-class pimping services of Beijing's elite, and I definitely don't like paying excessively just to stop pain. I am average and life isn't fair.

Life got slightly worse, though, when a recent series of exhilarating personal events lead to a stress-induced stomachache that robbed me of both energy and weight.